Anything's Possible
by DobbyLovesSocks
Summary: "And I'm sure she's happy in heaven. I think she's dancing up there." /Nine-year-old Luna and Ginny meet on Luna's first Christmas without her mother.


**A./N. This is dedicated to WeasleySeeker, for always answering my questions about British/American differences, being a fellow Romione shipper, and for just being an awesome author in general. :)  
**

**Disclaimer- If I were J.K. Rowling, I wouldn't need to go to WeasleySeeker to ask questions about British dialect, now would I?**

* * *

A burning tear trickles down your cheek, freezing before you have the chance to wipe it off. It's Christmas morning, every other child's favorite day of the year. But it was never yours.

Even when you had your mother to celebrate with you, it wasn't your favorite day of the year. You loved Christmas, yes, but there were better days.

_"What makes it so special if it's the same for everyone?" _you remember once asking your mother, twisting around in her lap so you could look at her. _"Isn't it more fun if a day is special just for you?"_ Mum smiled, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

She didn't say a word; she just watched you.

Oh, you feel different now. Christmas isn't the same, and it never will be, without the warmth of her smile and arms. You hardly feel the icy snow numbing your arms and legs as you lie there in a thin set of robes. You had told Daddy that you were going to take a walk, maybe bring home some Nargles from the endless clumps of mistletoe, so he wouldn't worry if you were gone a bit longer.

Or maybe forever.

Stepping out of the house this morning, you had no true intentions, except to find somewhere where you could be alone and peaceful. But now, as your mind drifts further and further into the clouds, and your limbs begin to lose feeling, you realize how easy it would be to simply lie here for countless hours until nothing but a cold, empty body was left. You don't think about this in a sad way; more of a curious way, maybe even happy. Christmas was always a special day spent with your mother when you were younger; why should it be any different now? Smiling faintly, you gaze up at the clouds, trying to identify their shapes. A boy holding a bucket... A Crumple Horned Snorkack... An ice cream cone on top of a castle...

"Um, excuse me," A voice breaks the peaceful silence around you, and you sit up, startled. "but what are you doing?" The voice belongs to a girl who appears to be about your age, with fiery red hair and a freckled nose.

"Thinking," you reply, tilting your head back and lying down once more.

"What about?" she asks, sounding genuinely curious. Surprised, you look at her. Other girls never seem at all interested in what you have to say.

"My mum," you tell her simply. "She died this past Spring, and I miss her very much. We would always spend Christmas together."

"Oh," she replies, looking shocked. "I didn't know, I-I'm really sorry-"

"It's all right," you answer. "What's your name?"

"Ginny Weasley," she says, straightening up proudly. "How about you?"

"My name's Luna Lovegood."

"Oh, I've heard of you! My mum's mentioned your family before; you live over there, right?" she asks, pointing up the hill. You nod, trying to recall if the name "Weasley" was ever brought up in your house. When you decide that it hasn't, you change the subject.

"Would you like to play with me? We can look for Nargles, if you'd like. They're everywhere, this time of year." She looks at you, slightly taken aback. "Unless your parents would be worried," you add. Ginny grins.

"Oh, they won't be. I've sort of made a habit of disappearing for a while; Mum and Dad are pretty used to it by now. We opened presents already, anyway. What about you, Luna? What do you usually do on Christmas?"

"Well, I always used to spend Christmas with Mum. We would bake cookies together for Santa Claus, and decorate each one differently. And we never used magic, because Mum always said that by not using magic, Santa knows you really care. And-"

"_My _Mum uses magic," Ginny says, sounding offended. Unsure of what to say, you shrug and continue.

"And then while mum cooked dinner, Daddy and I would go and get her a present. She always said that my present was her favorite one," you add, a bit sadly. "The next morning, when I woke up, I would go downstairs and in my stocking, Mum would always have put in a new charm for my bracelet. Each one is a magical creature she studied. See?" you ask, holding your arm out to Ginny. "This one here is a Crumple Horned Snorkack, and this is a Nargle..." You explain all of your charms to her, while she examines them with interest.

"I'm really sorry about your Mum," she says quietly.

"You shouldn't be sorry," you reply honestly. "Anyway, it's better that she died this year than if she had when I was a baby. At least now I know I'll always have the memories. And I'm sure she's happy in heaven. I think she's dancing up there."

"You believe in a heaven?" she asks. You nod fervently.

"Do you see those puffy, white clouds? Those are heaven, and all the good people who die, like Mum, go up there forever. All of those angels are inside the clouds, dancing and playing." You lean in closer to tell her something that you've never shared with anyone before.

"That's why I spend so much time looking up at the sky," you whisper. "If I lay here long enough, Mum will come out and I'll be able to see her again."

Ginny looks at you in wonder. The same look, you realize, that was ever present on your mother's face, watching you.

"You think some really strange things, Luna," she says, smiling, after a moment. "But you know, anything's possible." You stand up, and raise your arms over your head as you begin to twirl in circles. Worn, blue robes billow around you, and the cold air stings against your pale skin. Staring up at the sky, a smile lights up your face. As you slowly spin around and around, Ginny gazes at you, looking thoughtful.

She doesn't say a word; she just watches you.

And as you see her stand up, looking unsure of herself, and begin to twirl along with you, you wonder if Christmas really will be spent without Mum this year. Maybe, you think, Mum took a little piece of her soul and put it into this child, this proud, open-minded, girl.

After all, she said herself, _anything is possible._


End file.
